


Supers (of Mostly the NSFW Kind)

by Ghastjio



Series: Supers [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Drabble Collection, M/M, NSFW, dubcon, reluctant bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghastjio/pseuds/Ghastjio
Summary: Welcome to the “my friend and I made ocs and now I’m way too inspired to write about them” fic. Except it isn’t really a fic, it’s just a bunch of NSFW drabbles. I will write whatever I want to whenever I want to and no one can stop me.Tags/pairings/general info will be in the summary of each chapter. All of these are NSFW, the SFW drabbles are earlier in the seriesIf you like looking at images better, take a look atPepper's art! (aka my friend). All of those are SFW.
Relationships: Damian (oc) / D.Z.Y./Jonas (oc) / Walton (oc)
Series: Supers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774132
Kudos: 1





	Supers (of Mostly the NSFW Kind)

**Author's Note:**

> We start this off with The Good Sex between our favorite boys: Damian, D.Z.Y., and Walton.
> 
> It looks like dubcon but do not be fooled: Walton loves it and everyone knows.  
> Otherwise: Body horror (Damian) and a reluctant bottom (Walton). Food is involved a tiny bit.
> 
> Also: This was written on Valentine's Day!
> 
> Don't mind the fact that this was the first time I've written NSFW

Walton sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is one of the few times he can admit he’s stupid - and even then it’s only to himself. He first felt the pangs of hunger hours ago, back when the house was quiet and everyone was asleep save for himself, but he ignored it in favor of getting some actual work done. That would’ve been fine if he hadn’t been welding long into the morning. Now he can’t ignore his stomach, his two housemates are awake, and he can hear them  _ giggling _ . Well, Damian is, but D.Z.Y. is surely contributing somehow.

Giggling is never good, especially when it’s Damian. It means he’s planning something, and every plan he has involves Walton in some sort of compromising position. For a second he considers going back to work, but his stomach quickly dispels that thought. This is the price he pays for procrastinating on his health. He finally stands, looking longingly at the metal scraps on the table, before tearing himself away to crack the door to the hallway open.

The giggling continues. Predictably, the two of them are between Walton and the kitchen. In the living room no less, which means that he has no power to make them move. Delightful. What makes it even more delightful is that, when he’s in the doorway between the hallway and the living room, he hears Damian say “He’s going to love it~”

Walton stops. He knows the meaning of those words: Damian’s going to be the one loving it. He could turn back right now, maybe sneak out of a window and try out one of the fast food places in town, but the couch is in view. And perched on the couch’s armrest is D.Z.Y., who lifts his head to stare at Walton with his judging swirling gaze. Suddenly all thoughts of fleeing leave Walton’s mind. There’s no way in hell he’s backing out of this now.

Damian follows D.Z.Y.’s gaze and turns his head to grin widely at him. “Oh, hey! You’re right on time!”

Walton goes to give him an unamused stare, but suddenly realizes Damian’s chest is bare for all the world to see. So instead he turns his head to look anywhere but at him. You know, out of respect for his privacy. Not because he knows it’s one of the few things that gets on his nerves. “I see you’re enjoying D.Z.Y.’s company,” he says, ignoring what he just said.

Damian, damn him, is in too good a mood to mind. He even does it back to him. “Do you know what day it is?~”

Walton decides to up his game and ignore him completely. He walks over to the kitchen, careful to keep his back straight and his pace confident. As always, Damian doesn’t care for his theatrics, and quickly gets up to follow him. Walton expects him to follow him for a while, hovering by while he makes himself breakfast, but instead Damian wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, pinning his arms in place and using his strength to prevent him from pulling away.

Walton scowls under his mask, but before he can demand to be let go, Damian brings his other hand up to hold something in front of Walton’s face. It’s so close he has to lean back to see it clearly and his scowl deepens at the effort, but he quickly freezes when he sees what it is. It’s one of those heart-shaped containers filled with chocolates. All of them are there - a rarity considering Damian’s penchant for eating everything in sight - and it actually brings some color to his cheeks.

Of course Damian notices that, however hard it might be with Walton’s mask in the way. His grin widens and his eyes shine with delight. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Walton glances between him and the chocolates before clearing his throat. “I’m not hungry.” Of course his stomach chooses that exact moment to growl and complain about how it is, in fact, hungry, turning Damian’s delighted grin into a smug one.

“Of  _course_ you are~ Come on, let me get you fed,” he coos, before practically dragging Walton over to the couch. He makes a good effort at struggle, but both of them know it’s useless. Damian pushes him down onto the couch and sits in his lap - facing him, of course - before he has time to get up. He huffs and pushes at Damian’s shoulders to try to get him off but D.Z.Y., the one thing he didn’t take into account, is suddenly behind him and yanking each arm back with a firm grip on each wrist. Walton squirms, but D.Z.Y. is far stronger. It takes him no time at all to tie Walton’s wrists together with something. It feels almost like… shit. It better not be a ribbon.

Walton tests the strength of his restraint while his eyes track D.Z.Y. as he returns to the couch’s armrest. Then Damian yanks his mask down and, on autopilot, he snaps at his fingers. Damian avoids it just like every other time.

“Save the desert for last!” he laughs, grabbing one of the chocolates to hold it to Walton’s lips. “I know I’m tastier, but I got these just for you~”

Walton turns his head away. “What is your obsession with bringing food into _everything_?”

Damian shoves the chocolate against his lips and he determinedly keeps them pressed shut. “I thought that was obvious!” He uses his other hand to press his thumb against Walton’s lips, breaking the seal and forcing his jaw open just enough to pop the chocolate in. 

Walton glowers at him but he chews anyway. He’d normally spit it in Damian’s face, but dammit, he’s too hungry right now. Damian holds up another chocolate before he has time to respond and he holds his lip shut again, anything to make the inevitable a little harder to reach (he didn’t used to think it was unavoidable. Being around these two definitely corrupted him). However, almost as soon as he does it, a sudden wet pressure on his groin makes him gasp. Damian takes that opportunity to shove the next chocolate in as Walton berates himself for forgetting about the other mouth.

That mouth in question, situated right where he knows the rectus abdominus and tendonous inscription would be on any normal person, is currently having a fucking fieldday. He squeezes his legs together, anything to keep the tongue away from his crotch, but Damian quickly moves so he isn’t quite sitting on Walton’s lap anymore. Instead he has his ass between his legs, forcing them apart so his damn tongue can keep leisurely licking the one place Walton hates it. (A part of his mind points out the lie. He quickly shoves it away.)

Damian, meanwhile, has a third chocolate trying to force its way in before he’s even done chewing the second. Walton scowls and tilts his head away, finally managing to say something between his swallow and Damian trying to force his jaw open again. “You know eating while fucking is something only _you_ get off to, right?”

Damian, just to piss him off, gasps happily and focuses on the one thing Walton didn’t want him to. “You want me to fuck you? Already??”

Walton tries his best to knee his side. He only succeeds in lightly papping the corner of Damian’s stomach mouth, which grins and presses its tongue harder. He shudders at the feeling and, fuck it all, his voice actually shakes. “I’m going to _kill_ you.”

Damian has the audacity to tsk as he hands the box of chocolates over to D.Z.Y., who sets them to the side. “We both know I’m the only murderer here. I heard you apologize to that fly you killed yesterday~”

Walton’s eyes widen in surprise. He heard that!? Damian laughs when he sees his reaction and pats Walton’s hair like he would a dog, which quickly pisses him off.

“Oh my god, look at you, you’re so surprised!” Walton goes to headbutt Damian in frustration - aiming for his chest, of course, he isn’t stupid enough to go for the head - but Damian grabs his throat and forces him against the back of the couch. He starts to squirm but a thumb pressed against his larynx immediately stops him. The pressure stops just before the point he can’t breathe, but he has to start breathing deeply to keep from being light headed.

D.Z.Y. does something off to the side but Walton is too busy staring at Damian. He knows how he must look, flushed, pupils blown, mouth open (he tries to convince himself it’s to allow him to breathe better. That annoying part tells him it’s because he’s close to his tipping point between fighting and succumbing). The tongue presses itself against the growing ~~embarrassing~~ bulge in his pants and he lets out a little whine that only makes his face a darker shade of red.

Damian rakes his eyes over him. Then he smirks and moves off his lap, the absent pressure of both his tongue and thumb leaving Walton more breathless than before. Then he gets a hang of himself and straightens up, about to berate Damian about his treatment, when the sight of his p- c- d- _fuck_. Here Damien is, shoving his pants down and waggling his eyebrows suggestively (he doesn’t have underwear on, shit), and all Walton can think about is whether it’s worth it to keep his medical jargon up and call it a penis or if he should just give in already and call it literally anything sexier.

“Do you like my _massive_ **_cock_**?” asks Damien, stressing the words in the most annoying way possible, and Walton finally makes his mind up.

“Your penis is about average size,” he says simply. For once Damian’s eyes flash in annoyance and Walton can’t help the swell of satisfaction in him.

Then he grabs his hair and yanks him forward. Walton gasps in surprise as he’s almost yanked off the couch itself, and Damian takes that opportunity to get a thumb in his mouth. He bites down on instinct, almost breaking the skin, but the fucking tongue comes back again and slips into the small gap in his teeth. They work together to pry his mouth open wide enough that Damian can easily slip his dick in, and when Walton looks up to give him a withering glare, it’s returned by a wide grin. “Then you should have no trouble swallowing it down.”

Walton lets out a sound of outrage and tries to pull away, but Damian grabs his hair and forces him back down. That song and dance happens a few more times before they finally let themselves fall into a familiar rhythm. He purposely scrapes his teeth against his dick a couple times and gets shoved down farther than normal for his trouble, leaving him fighting against the urge to choke. Still, Walton gets comfortable with it. Too comfortable.

He feels the couch cushions shift behind him, but doesn’t pay it any mind. Then a breeze suddenly hits his ass and he jolts towards Damien in surprise, leaving him laughing above him. “Ooh, a knife? You know he won’t wear this again now, right?~”

A pit forms in his stomach as D.Z.Y. responds behind him. He completely forgot about him. “I know,” he says, voice as flat as ever. Something hits the floor behind the couch - must be the discarded knife he used to cut open Walton’s jumpsuit - as a cold metal hand sneaks under the fabric to rest on the small of his back. “He has five more.”

Damian snorts and pulls Walton down again when he tries to break away. “You still could’ve unzipped it.”

“His wrists are tied,” D.Z.Y points out, “and that usually complicates things.” Then Walton hears the familiar sound of a bottle clicking open and he finally decides he’s had enough. He starts biting at Damian’s dick just hard enough to hurt and scowls heavily when he finally gets pulled off with a chorus of ‘ow’s.

“Having him stretch me for you? You’ve stooped to a new low.”

Damian pretends to think on that while D.Z.Y. presses a lubed metal finger inside him. Walton isn’t masochistic enough to stay tense, so he makes himself relax despite his frustration. “Well, that _is_ tempting…”

He rolls his eyes and huffs (of his own volition, of course. Not because D.Z.Y. is going a little too fast to be totally comfortable). “You say that as if you haven’t been planning this since you woke up.”

Damian snickers and smooths down Walton’s hair. He would lean into its comfort if he didn’t still have some shred of pride in him. Still, Damian knows what he wants and keeps doing it, the repetitive motion helping him stay relaxed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The conversation ends there. Walton finally lets himself sink into the small reprieve, letting his facade drift away. This is one of those rare moments he lets himself fully relax without fear of getting teased by Damian. D.Z.Y. teased him during their first time, but after an especially negative reaction from Walton, he never did it again. He still can’t bring himself to look at either of them during it, but they’ve never made him.

Then D.Z.Y. hits that one spot and Walton tenses with a small whine of pleasure. That’s the cue for Damian’s hand to return to gripping his hair harshly, and Walton quickly rearranges his thoughts back into the present moment. A frown returns to his face when he realizes that D.Z.Y. hasn’t pulled his fingers out yet and he shifts his weight impatiently. He debates asking Damian if he’s going to fuck him already, but thankfully he speaks up before he has to ask. “You can go ahead and get ready~”

He goes to pull away to do just that but Damian tugs him back, making him sneer. “How am I supposed to get ready if I can’t move?”

Damian smirks, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he practically purrs. The smirk widens into a grin as Walton’s eyes widen. “You know, you sounded pretty hungry earlier, so I thought I’d prepare a spitroast for you~”

Right on time, D.Z.Y. pulls his fingers out and replaces them with a dull shape that teases at his entrance. He wants to protest, to give Damian his strongly worded opinion about why this shouldn’t happen, but only one thing spills out: “W- _What??_ ”

Damian laughs at his stutter and Walton can’t help the flush of embarrassment. “You didn’t think I’d keep that dick you made him all to myself, right? It’s only right to share the love.”

He wants to tell him that it’s _supposed_ to be kept all to himself, but D.Z.Y. starts pressing in and only a groan leaves his lips. His mind races through all the ways this could go poorly for him, and the various images it helpfully supplies of him left used and panting leaves all hope of getting out of this flying out the window. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, between wanting to fight all the way down and succumbing already, between Damian’s cock and D.Z.Y.'s mechanical one, and he’s going to have to choose _something_.

Damian pulls Walton back down onto his length and something in his mind finally makes the decision. He can’t bring himself to pretend not to like this anymore, and his eyes glaze over as he lets the situation take over. He isn’t trying to pull away anymore, but D.Z.Y.’s thrusts bounce him between them well enough. Instead he looks up at Damian with an expression he’ll deny later (whatever Damian says, he does _not_ give people heart eyes) and groans happily. The almost pornographic moans only come in later when D.Z.Y.’s dick starts vibrating and leaves Walton nearly cross-eyed.

Everything after that is a blur of pleasure. He has no idea how long it goes on for and frankly he doesn’t care. He has some vague idea of the two of them finally pulling out and Damian catching him before he collapses, and he faintly hears mention of him finally getting some decent sleep, but he doesn’t pay attention. He’s just happy when Damian pulls him into his arms and lets him slip into unconsciousness, more content than he’s been in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Please go look at [Pepper's art](https://pepperpixel.tumblr.com/tagged/pepper-and-ghasts-children) for our characters... I beg of you...


End file.
